a nasty tale?

 

SERMON PREACHED AT St PAUL’S, ARROWTOWN

and St PETER’S, QUEENSTOWN

32^nd ORDINARY SUNDAY (November 12^th) 2023

 

 READINGS

Joshua 24: 1-3a, 14-25

Psalm 78: 1-7

1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18

Matthew 25: 1-13

 

 

There are few parables of Jesus that offer less of a sense of good news than the parable of the five wise and five foolish “bridesmaids” or “virgins.” Interpreters acknowledge that by the standards of Jesus there has to be an awful lot more spade work than normal to find the seeds of the Reign of God here.

While in no parable of Jesus is there absolute equivalence between the characters and scenes he creates and the characters and scenes around him and around us, the work is more tenuous than ever here.

Who are these so-called wise bridesmaids who condemn their mates to an impossible search for oil in the middle of a Palestinian night? Who is this draconian groom who comes home at midnight with slaughter on his mind? Should toxic bridesmaids turn on chaotic bridesmaids like piranhas in a feeding frenzy? Is this a “be ready or burn” variation on a “turn or burn” narrative loved by so many in the history of Christian evangelism?

This is in any case no normal wedding preparation. Why are these young maidens waiting for the groom? It’s rather unusual behaviour in any context, when the bridesmaids tend to wait with and upon the bride (hence the name!).

Yes, Jesus extrapolates the obvious meaning from his own strange parable. Be ready. That theme inescapably dominates this entire block of Jesus teaching, but the behaviour of the bridesmaids is not an entirely helpful.

Wait.

Jesus often makes villains the unlikely heroes of his story – a grumpy judge, a corrupt manager, a Samaritan – so that may not surprise us.

Yet again we are asked to look at ourselves. What sort of a bridesmaid am I? As a chaotic person I find myself trembling. Is there any hint of grace in this passage? Do I condemn others to darkness? Am I condemned to darkness?

Complacency is a deeper theme than chaos. Am I blasé about the faith and the call to compassion and justice that I hear in the gospel?

Well yes. So, I’m back with the foolish virgins again.

Evangelist-comedian Adrian Plass told a story of a Pharisee who again and again hears Jesus telling him and other Pharisees to repent and amend their ways. He has responded many, many times by repenting and amending his ways and reached the point that he feels he can do no more. He tugs on Jesus’ sleeve and says, “Master I don’t think I’m going to make it into your Kingdom.”

Jesus smiles in response: “It is not you that I'm speaking to, my friend,” he says, “but to the complacent and the hypocritical.” The challenge of course is to be neither of these. Fallible, yes. Deliberately exploitative or in any other way hypocritical, then we might be pushing the limits of divine compassion.

I know that there are many areas in my life, possibly yours too, in which I have precisely pushed the limits of divine compassion. Have I fallen outside the boundaries of divine mercy? Am I condemned forever to gnash my teeth with the foolish bridesmaids? “Look not,” says the famous hymn, “on our misusings of your grace, but look on us as found in him.”

If I am deliberately playing games with the gospel of God then the answer is (almost) yes. I think of those who have abused others financially, sexually, psychologically, in the name of Jesus. These are the ones who fall most conspicuously into the category of using the name of the Lord, their claimed God, in vain.

I don't want to be sloppy in my understanding of who are and who are not hanging out at the wedding of the groom. Sloppy is not a part of gospel-discipleship. There is a mysterious time when we have to face God, and especially as western Christians, acknowledge our sin. We are all lined up with our lamps going out.

For those who are wantonly destructive of other human lives, for those who are predators or parasites draining the life force from those around them, there is stern warning in messages about the judgement of God.

Psalm 139 tells us there is no place to hide from God, even the depths of hell, whatever that might mean. I believe that deeply. The love of God does not end with our decisions or our death.

The foolish bridesmaids are not sent off to burn in eternal torment. The prepared bridesmaids do not get off lightly in this parable either: their behaviour in sending their friends out into the night is hardly gospel. Yet for as long as we strive to serve the light, the life, the justice revealed in Jesus, the invitation to the feast, or as I prefer to call it “nosh up” of God remains.

Paul in our little extract from the letters to the Thessalonians reminds us of the inescapable eternity of love: “Since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died.” We are not called to fret and grieve for the generations coming after us and those around us who do not share our faith. They are in their hands of God. We are called to do our best, like the little pharisee tugging at Jesus’ sleeve. We and ours are embraced by and helped by the eternal love made present by the Holy Spirit of God.

Amen.